


Cold Whispers

by sheepysleepy



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: And hungry, Benedict is secretly a drama queen, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Loneliness, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Suicide Attempt, The entity is sadistic, This isn't as dark as it sounds, i love him so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepysleepy/pseuds/sheepysleepy
Summary: Benedict knew there was nothing to hold onto. Times changed and would not come again, he needed to Keep his sanity. He would no longer Play the Entitys sick games.
Kudos: 4





	Cold Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I love Benedict so much, even though we literally know nothing About him. But Maybe that's the reason. I just wanted to write something About him in my Interpretation of him.  
> That being said, this Story is entirely headcanon. Nothing of this was confirmed or implied.
> 
> Enjoy!

The fog was endless. One might not believe it, but there was no boundery of the thick almost seemingly alive mist around them. It was moving without any limits, maybe even expanding, like the universe of the human realm was thought of. A wider growing forest of creatures, monsters and thus who find temporary safety in the dancing flames of a neverending campfire. In the early stages of his being in this realm, he found out that the flickering flames of it, never provided heat or damage, but pain and burns. It never lasted though. Every injury was healed by the mysterious spider god, they called the entity.

He had first held his hand into the fire, just wanting to feel something. Anything really. It just brought pain, and after doing it multiple times he had finally attempted to burn his whole body, in hope of finally escaping this nightmare, by dying for real and not some meat hook. He should have known, the entity would let its toys die just like that. He survived sadly, but did not go without punishment, as it did not heal any of his injuries for several trials, even going as far as to let his hand keep the horrific burn marks.

Trials. Those were the only options to even faintly keep track of time, if time was even a concept in the entities realm. When he still played the spider gods games, repairing generators, getting chased by the most deformed and sadistic monstrosities one could imagine, he was clueless. He remembered truly thinking that there was nothing outside of the safe haven, they called the campfire.

How naive and awfully weakminded he truly was back then. But compared to his former „fellow surviviors“, he must have had the strongest mind of them all. He could still hear their cries and pleas, as they slowly lost their sanity and transformed in yet more of the entities murder play things. Survivors turned Killer, it held some irony. He would have found it amusing, if it had not been thus who he thought he could trust, who now took turns in slashing him down and putting him carelessly on a meat hook.

„But they never held long“, he thought calmly.

All of them, some quicker than others, couldn’t take, what they had become after a while and what then happened, was not to be seen by any being. Yet he did. It was mid trial, a young energetic and always humerous survivor was now his to-be-Killer. He was the last one alive and could not find the safety illusion they called hatch and had little to none hope, since his former friend was hot on his heels. Benedict was close to giving up and just letting the blade dive into his back, when he heard a loud thud as if someone had just collapsed.

He stopped in his tracks, a deep feeling of dread in his gut, telling him to get the hell away from there, but he could not bring himself to do just that. His friend was on his knees, he had his make shift killer mask torn off his face, revealling a not so human face much to Benedicts shock. His friend was breathing heavily, sounds of ragged crying escaped his throat and the entities eery whispers also starting to surround them, but spoke no language. The veins of the former survivors face were clearly visible, as instead of blood running in them a bright yellow serum like liquid filled his arteries. He was staring at the ground, his shoulder long hair mostly hiding his face and eyes.

Benedict, still young and inexperienced with everything the entity had up its sleeve at that time, did not expect many things from it. Up to that point, he didn’t even know, what was about to happen to his ex-friend, but he was soon to find out.

His friend was panting with his throat sometimes making weird noises, as if he was trying to spew something out and trying to speak.

„I-I… I CAN’T… I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!“ The Killer finally managed. His voice sounded rough and mucous, he obviously hadn’t used it in a very long time.

He finally took his gaze off the floor and locked eyes with Benedict, whose blood ran cold in an instant. His friends irises still wore their baby blue color, but his scleras were the same bright yellow-orange color as the „blood“ in his veins. But it was different. The substance seemed to be… moving, as if it were alive. He could not take his gaze off of them, not even as he took a few steps back in terror. He noticed that now, the liquid was even running out of his friends mouth, drawing thin lines of it down his chin and dripping onto the ground.

He fell on all four, his breathing became more panicked and uneven, as if he struggled to get air into his lungs. Benedict did not notice how the ground around them cracked at some spots, revealing lava like streams underneath them, he was too focussed on what was happening to his ex-friend at the moment. The yellow substance was now leaking from everywhere in his face, nose, mouth and eyes, looking like streams of blood or tears.

The whispers around them grew louder and louder by each passing second, making it hard to concentrate or catch a single thought. Benedict held his hand to his ears, as if he could block out the noises, which were obviously inside of his head. His friend seemed to suffer even more and punched the floor. 

„WH… WHY CAN’T IT STOP?! MAKE IT STOP!“, he screamed at the top of his lungs, not doing any good with all the suffocating noise around them, which was threatening to break both of their minds.

And then. Silence. For the briefest of moments, the whispering stopped. There was nothing but complete quiet, as Benedict locked his eyes once again with those of his former friend. The silence didn’t last three seconds, as massive black spider legs dove out of the ground and pierced through his friend. A shrill and painfull scream rang through Benedicts ears as he watched him getting mauled by the demonic entity, frozen in shock.

His body was gone in mere seconds, as if it was burned, his soul being the only thing left, but was quickly devoured by the entity. He hadn’t noticed how tears ran down his eyes, giving the spider god just more to feed on.

He could not tell how much time had passed since, it must have been years, if not decades, but time was tricky and it could have just given off the illusion of it passing. But Benedict would not quiver that easily, he would fight for either endless survival or the sweet release of death and not by the games of the entity. So he started to pick up small things, started to notice details and set up theories. 

He was by far the oldest one – or rather said the one who had been there the longest – as he took notice of how the entity replaced its survivors from time to time. Admittedly he was never one for interaction and did not care for the most part about his campfire fellows outside of trials. They did not know what would inevitably happen to them once they could not hold onto their sanity any longer and he did not bother to tell them. He rather laid his focus onto himself, he was going to be the sole survivor of this bunch, he could not afford distraction to save those whose fate is already sealed.

His peers raised eyebrows, the day he proclaimed, that he was going to wander off into the fog alone and they would likely never see him again and vice versa. However none of them did anything to stop him. Just one of the bunch questioned him for his reasons.

„You’ll be sent into trials anyway, doesn’t matter how far you are away, the entity will catch you.“ A woman between 20 and 30, with short blonde hair raised her voice. Benedict could not remember her name, not as if he cared at all. „It’s always been like that, what makes you think it’ll be any different with you?“

He stopped in his tracks, he had his back turned to the other survivors, but felt all eyes watching him with varying interest. 

„Because it wants me to.“ He whispered, but due to the massive silence, everyone could hear it. „It wants me to go into the fog to find something.“

The blonde woman had a look of disbelief and confusion written onto her features.

„Who?“

„The entity.“

The silence ruling over them was almost suffocating, there was no sound. Not even the neverending flames of the fireplace dared to make any noise. 

„What makes you think, you are so special? You’re like any of us, why would it choose you and why would it want you to find something?“ 

Benedict could not decipher the emotions in her voice. He knew he wasn’t well liked by anyone really, including her, so that was an option. Jealousy maybe? Jealous not to be chosen for such dangerous and lonely fate, outside of the familiar fake safety of the campfire? Unlikely.

„Because it whispers to me.“ He finally turned around and let his gaze wander all of them. His face spoke a story off conviction and determination, while theirs just screamed confusion and/ or anger for some reason. The woman wore a frown, as he waited for him to continue.

„Ever since I arrived at the fog, it has been speaking to me. Whispers louder than anything, more menacing than the worst threat, more mockingly than the sadistic insults one could imagine. And I know this cycle of suffering is not my destiny. My fate lies beyond the fog and the entity wants me to find it.“

His voice was clear, he spoke in a normal but firm tone.

„You will not see or hear of me again and I am convinced that will be the same case for me. But remember one thing before I leave. There is no mercy, nothing to hold on and no limits to cross. You might not understand now, but the time will come, when each of you will look into the face of a person you once trusted, only to be stabbed in the back. Quite literally I might add. If any of you shows the strength and the will to hold onto nothing more than themselves, then you and I might see each other once again one day. But until then I will be off into the fog and begin my search for my fate.“

With that he turned around and trudged into the deep of the misty dark woods, leaving the campfire forever behind.

If time was not a concept in this realm before, it became completely nonexistant once he left the campfire. Without the trials to count, his only comfort was knowing that he had been right, the entity would not pull him into trials anymore.

He never felt tired or hungry, meaning he could very well just keep on walking without ever taking a break. He did it anyway, just to keep his mind sane and get some clear thoughts. Benedict was never one to underestimate what loneliness and a monotone routine could do to ones mind. He even started talking to the entity, making up real conversation with it, he still heard the whispers but they were intelligable. Not as if he expected it to answer him anyway.

Sometimes he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Sleep wasn’t something real in the entity as well. Instead of dreams, all he got was this unconcious state, where you only see black, and the moment after „waking up“ felt as if no time had passed at all.

After a long while of wandering without and destination he found something. A building. A real building made out of polished dark blue cinderblocks. It had several windows, but he was unable to recognize what was inside. A big grey wooden door led to the inside oft he building, no lock seemed to be there as well.

He would never admit it and would deny it, but the relief flooding through his body upon seeing it was tremendous. His wandering had been going on for way to long for his liking, and his faith and determination had began to fade. The burning fire of total and complete conviction, which had started to become only glowing ash, was now sparked anew, as he took confident steps towards the tower like building. 

The house was complex, to say the least. It had multiple towers varying in size and probably use, the roof tiles were tinted pitch black and the windows had every shape imaginable, yet it gave an organized aura. The plants and vines around the building had a dark green color, a stark contrast to the autumn like environment of the fog.

He came to a stop when he reached the house, standing in front of the wooden door for a few moments. He hesitated before raising his hand and knocking carefully three times on the door. Nobody answered, there was no noise inside of it, yet Benedict felt as if someone in there was calling for him. Slowly he put his hand against the door, feeling no roughness the material might have possessed, and pushed against it. With a long and shrill creek it opened the light from outside crawling into the pitch black darkness, but revealing nothing, as Benedict plunged into it.

His eyes didn’t even need to adjust to the dim light, as upon his entering plenty of torches and candles set themselves ablaze, bright enough, that one might mean it was real daylight. Benedict rubbed his eyes in slight disbelief. The house looked smaller on the outside, but he had no time to dwell on that for too long and instead took a moment to look around. The walls were covered in shelves upon shelves, all filled with books, with seemingly no end, they even reached the ceiling. A ladder made it possible to reach all books up there. Speaking of ceiling, it was covered in paintings. 

An uncomfortable feeling began to bubble up in Benedicts chest. He had seen many paintings of this kind before. Rich people, nobilities and kings liked to have these pieces of art on their ceiling. He remembered Versailles as an example and many more in his life span, but these paintings were nothing like them.

There were no landscapes, no angels and no people painted. It was more of a pattern. A pattern of multiple shades of blue spiderlegs, overlapping each other, as they stretched out from the corners of the ceiling and into the middle. The amount of blue was overwhelming. Blue. Cold. Uninviting.  
The house was probably designed to give off this feeling, yet Benedict felt comfortable and perfectly calm there. 

Something out of the color scheme caught his eye. A pink-red arm chair with soft cushion was placed right in the middle of all the bookshelves. Next to it was a small table and one look at the floor revealed a variety of again blue carpets.

The entitys whispers were still there, but quieter than usual. Somehow it almost seemed calm and content, but maybe it was just Benedicts imagination. Maybe the long time he had been alone did something to his sanity. He chuckled, or at least tried to chuckle at that thought, but it sounded more like a nervous laugh. 

He walked towards one of the shelves and let his gaze wander over the books. All of them seemed almost ancient, as he pulled one out. It had a faded dark green color, and small golden patterns, making it seem unique. Benedict did not know the language which was written down on the cover and many pages, but he guessed it to latin. It’d take him a while to decipher it, since his latin was a bit rusty, but that did not take away his enthusiasm. After such a long time he felt as if he had a goal, as if this was the key to finally end this nightmare.

And he knew there was only one way to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should be working on my Multi chapter fanfic, but I couldn't help it. Writing These short stories also keeps me from Writer Block.  
> I think I'll write more for the Dead by Daylight fandom in the future, but Right now I want to Focus on my current Projects.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
